


Daisy Fields

by A E Reddish (WalkingTVs)



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M, Fae & Fairies, Fae Magic, Fantasy, M/M, Minor Violence, NaNoWriMo, NaNoWriMo 2020, Original Fiction, Other, Polyamory, Promiscuity, Romance, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:14:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27354046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WalkingTVs/pseuds/A%20E%20Reddish
Summary: Riona Quinn moves to her Nana's old cottage for a gap year. She makes a supernatural friend, or maybe more? But after an earth-shattering discovery about her Nana's past, she's trapped in another world facing challenges on all fronts.Written for NaNoWriMo 2020
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Male Character, Original Male Character/Original Male Character





	1. Chapter 1

Nana always said this old house knows more than most people. I never knew what that meant when I was a girl, but looking up at its drooping shutters I think I finally understand. It looks sad. I would be too if I'd been alone and empty for three years. Three years ago my Nana died and left me her cottage on the edge of the woods, Daisy Fields. Such a happy name, I _will_ make this place happy again.

I haven't been here in years, but as I drag my bags in from my car, I remember every summer I spent here with Nana. There's the stain on the wood countertop from when I spilled grape juice and it never quite came out. I set my cooler right on that stain. The fridge isn't plugged. I guess I'll have to keep my meager food supplies in the cooler for a while longer. The floors creak upstairs, nearly making me jump out of my skin. I hope no animals, or worse, people, have set up shop while the house was vacant. I grab my suitcase and drag it out of the kitchen, down the hallway and start trying to get it up the stairs, but it's just doesn't seem to want to cooperate with me. I leave it at the foot of the stairs and head up myself.

My old room is the door on the right, but I don't go in there. No, I go straight for the center door, my Nana's room. The quilt we made together when I was twelve is folded up at the foot of the bed. A crayon picture of us is still hanging up above the dresser. I expected everything to be caked in three years of dust, but the dresser top is completely clean. That's odd. I wander around the room almost dazed. It still smells like my nana's perfume. I can't stay here. 

I rush back down the stairs and into the kitchen, wiping a few stray tears with my sweater sleeve. The rest of my things won't get here for a few days, but I do have most of my clothes and some cleaning supplies. 

After a few minutes of scouring the house for any dirt, I sit heavily down on the plush couch, discouraged. There isn't a single speck of dust in the whole of Daisy Fields. It's like the house had been frozen in time for three years. I settle for throwing open all the windows, except the ones in Nana's room and the downstairs bedroom. I can't get the door open for the life of me. It must be jammed. I'll have to call someone to come out and take it down. 

Time to finally get my suitcase upstairs, I think. I wrestle with that damn case for a good five minutes until I finally crest the top stairs and push open the door to my old bedroom. My dresser is gets loaded up with flannel shirts and blue jeans, then I go sit on my bed. I pick at the threads on my old comforter, a blue quilt with little star patterns in the stitches. Nana made that for me when I was ten and just started a space phase. I lay back on the bed; a few glow-in-the-dark stars are still stuck up above my bed. I think I'll keep those up there. It's been a long day, and before I know it, I'm dozing off, half my things still unpacked. 

When I wake up it's almost dark. That's what jetlag will do for you I guess. I head back down the stairs to get something to eat out of the cooler. The fridge is finally cooled enough to put my food away. I put the cooler away in a cabinet and put together a ham sandwich. Even after a couple of hours of sleep, I'm still so tired. My eyes are heavy and my movements slow. I still have to go into town soon to get more food. The stuff I got on the drive up here isn't gonna last me long. 

I put my plate in the sink and go back to my room. I linger on the landing for a moment, then go back into Nana's room. Her jewelry collection was supposed to be sent me after the funeral, but I was afraid of it getting lost in the mail. I probably should have been afraid of someone stealing it while I was gone, but that didn't cross my mind until just now, stupid girl. My heart races as I opened the top dresser drawer. Whew. It's still here. The stones wink up at me. I look for my favorite piece, a small flower-shaped gold pendant with a pearl in the middle and little stones on the petals. It's not in here. My grandpa gave Nana that for their 20th wedding anniversary. She always wore it! It should be here. I pull the drawer out further. Maybe it's just in the back? No, it's not in the drawer! On the side table? Maybe on the table by the fireplace? No, no, no! It's not anywhere! I sob, falling to sit on the bed, head on my hands. I can't believe it's not here, I should have just had it mailed, dammit! How could I be so stupid! I take a deep breath. In, out, come on Riona, get it together. I'll find it. I have to! It's _got_ to be here somewhere. 

Long after the sun goes done I'm still tearing apart Daisy Fields to find the necklace. It wasn't in my room, in the upstairs bathroom, the sitting room, the other bathroom, I even stick my hand down the garbage disposal just in case. Nowhere. The only place I couldn't check was the downstairs bedroom. After a good few minutes pushing hard against the door, I still can't get it to budge. At this point, I'm almost dead on my feet. The clock in the sitting room informs me it's past midnight. Sighing, I go back upstairs, defeated. I'm sure I'll find it. And what if I don't? I don't want to think about that. I have to find it.

The next day I head into town to get some supplies. On the drive up, I passed an antique store. Last night it occurred to me that if someone stole the necklace, maybe they sold it to a pawn shop? I sketched out the necklace as well as I could remember and put it in my purse. I pulled up at the antique store: Greenhill Antiques. A little bell tinkles when I open the door. An older woman calls out a welcome from behind a junk laden counter. Her white hair is up with what has to be a half dozen jeweled clips. 

"Welcome to Greenhill Antiques! How can I help you, dear?" She smiles at me, bright blue eyes sparkling.

"Oh, I was looking for something," I pull the drawing out of my bag. 

"Now that looks just like Sylvia's necklace, doesn't it!" The clerk exclaims

"She was my nana! I just moved back up to Daisy Fields and I looked everywhere but I can't find it and I was just thinking that maybe someone took it and sold it." I say in rush. 

"No one brought it in. But don't worry," She comes around the counter and pats my arm. "I locked that house up tight! No one could have come in. I'm sure it's was just misplaced at the funeral home."

"Oh, you've been the one cleaning?" She leads me over to a section of chairs and sits me down. 

"What do you mean, dear? The last time I was there must have been, oh, I don't know, a year ago?"

"Oh..." 

I hold my purse in my lap and she pats my arm again. 

"What was your name again?" I ask, changing the subject.

"Oh! Mary Daniels! But you can call me just call me Mary." She sits down in her own old chair and gives me a sweet smile. Then she does something wonderful, she starts telling me stories about Nana. Before I know it, a few hours have passed and I'm feeling somewhat better, a little wistful, but I'm not about to cry in public anymore. I check my phone and realize how much time I've spent listening to Mrs. Daniels. 

"I've got to get to the grocery store! I completely forgot." I stand up quickly from the antique chair. Mrs. Daniels follows me to the front of the store. 

"Hold on a second, Riona. I've got some coupons back here for you!" I can't help but smile, Mrs. Daniels is a sweet old lady. I know that as a fact even after only a few hours. I leave Greenhill Antiques infected with her happiness.

After a quick trick to the store, considerably cheaper thank you very much, Mrs. Daniels, I'm back at Daisy Fields. I unload the groceries into the fridge. As I lean back on the table, I see something weird. The dishes from breakfast aren't in the sink anymore. I check the cabinets and sure enough, they're stacked up where they belong. I think Daisy Fields must have a cleaning ghost. I shudder at that, not a ghost, maybe a spirit or a Fae. Oh, scratch that! I don't want a cleaning Fae either! Nasty little monsters. I probably just washed them and forgot; I've been so addled recently. 

Time to get back to work on the house. I bought some seeds from the store to plant. With good luck, I'll have a good little harvest before winter! It's good to stay productive. The door on the garden shed gets stuck on the overgrown summer grasses but I get it open without too much trouble and grab a hard rake and trowel. Dandelions, clovers, and cleavers are growing wild in Nana's beloved garden beds. Some of the house's namesake daisies have escaped their flower beds and run all over the yard. I've got my work cut out for me.

About two hours later my legs are covered in cleavers, but the garden is cleared. I'm so tired I can't even think about planting the seeds and watering them in, and besides, I took so long the sun is already creeping below the treeline. I wipe some sweat from my brow and retreat inside for some water. The seeds get left on the kitchen table and I head upstairs for a shower and some blissful rest.

My rest isn't all that blissful. A loud crash from downstairs startles me wide awake. The alarm clock blinks bright green numbers at me: 3:26 AM. I throw off my quilt and slip on my house shoes. That better not be a raccoon down there. Tip-toeing silently down the stairs, I avoid the creaky step and peer around the door frame into the kitchen. 

A man. There's a man in my kitchen! Man with, what the hell? Goat legs? 

"Who the hell are you!" I exclaim before I can stop myself.

He jumps and swings around to face me, dropping the plate he was washing. It shatters on the wooden floor. He yelps and stumbles back from the broken ceramic, making frantic eye-contact with me before completely disappearing without a trace. Oh god. There was a man. In my kitchen. With goat legs! I have to be dreaming! I edge slowly over to the mess on the floor. It's still there; the plate broken into three large pieces. I can't just write this off as insomnia induced hallucination; I am wide awake now. Is he who's been keeping the house clean? Stealing Nana's jewelry? The blocked off room? Is that where he's been the whole time? For who knows how long! 

The room starts to spin. I grip the back of a chair so hard my knuckles turn white. Deep breaths, calm breaths, calm down. My hands shake as I fill up a cup from the sink. There's still soap clinging to the basin. Deep breaths, finish the water. My heart stops beating like a scared rabbit. I will deal with this goat-man, tomorrow. He's a problem for tomorrow. 

I won't be able to sleep a wink after this.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Riona googles who the hell that guy was

A stream of milk swirls my tea, turning it from a dark black to a creamy tan. My eyes are bleary as I blink up at the waitress.

"Oh. Thanks." My chin falls back into my hand.

I couldn't sleep a wink last night. I just could stop thinking about if that guy was going to come upstairs, where he went, why was he hear. My thoughts spun around and around until I passed out from exhausted, only to be woken up by the sun rising soon after. I left the house as soon as I was awake enough to drive but not before I noticed the seeds were gone from the table. When I looked out the window, the garden bed was separated into rows and planted.

The diner in Greenhill had the best breakfasts. I remembered that from Sunday mornings with Nana. So I came here to get away from worrying about the goat-man. 

The waitress sets down my breakfast; sunnyside-up eggs, toast, beans, bacon, and sausage. Perfect. Steam rises up from the plate. I take a sip of my tea and tuck in. 

* * *

Greenhill's library was stuck in the 1990s. The computers were still chunky boxes, running software that's at _least_ 20 years old, but they still get the job done. It may have taken a few minutes to load, but the Wikipedia page for brownies is starting to yield some great information.

"Brownies are house spirits that do chores and farming tasks."

That sounds about right. But the next part doesn't match. This says brownies are supposed to be small and wizened, like little old men. The goat-man wasn't tall, but he absolutely wasn't a one-foot tall crusty man. He looked only a little shorter than I am, probably about 5" 8 or 5" 9. So he's not a brownie if Wikipedia can be considered a trusted source on Faeries, which I doubt. And that's what I know he has to be. What else? A wild furry? No, no, he's got to be a Fae. It has been years since I've worried about a Fae and I do _not_ like that I to again.

When I was a kid, I accidentally gave some food to a Fae. She was so sad looking, not for long though. As soon as I handed over my fruit snacks, her face split into a grin so chilling I can still remember it in detail to this day. Her teeth were sharp, long, and terrifying, glistening with spit. They had to be at least 3 inches long. I was so young, just 6 or 7. Nana left me alone for a moment to get something from inside. We were having a picnic in the garden. The trees were bursting with summer leaves, so dense was the forest I couldn't even get past the low bushes. I almost got through, before Nana grabbed the back of my skirt and dragged me out of the bush.

"Riona what on earth do you think you're doing!" She cried.

"There was a girl. In the woods? I gave her a fruit snack and she told me to follow her and she'd give me a treat." I rubbed my eyes and blinked fast; I couldn't see clearly.

"Sweetheart, there aren't any girls around here, you know that. Come inside and, oh lord! We need to get a bandaid on that!" My hands were covered in scratches, oozing bright red blood.

When I was sitting at the table, swing my legs and drinking juice, Nana told me about the Fae. That was the first time I learned what all the weird people I see were and why I should never, ever talk to any of them. 

Let's not think about that anymore. Back to the computer. Okay, So he's not a brownie. What could he be? I search for goat-legged faeries and all I get is Glastigs and Satyrs. Glastigs like to guard cattle. I don't have any cows. Satyrs aren't even Fae or English so that's out for now. Back on house faeries. Now, what's this?

"A puck is a shapeshifting Fae, often appearing like a greek Pan, that will do household chores in exchange for milk or cream."

That hits the nail right on the head. I haven't given him any cream though, maybe he's just weird Or he's been sneaking milk from the fridge. This also says Pucks, like almost every Fae, love gifts like honey and jewelry. As much as I don't want a Fae in my house, having a Fae _leave_ my house angry might just be catastrophic, so the best course of action would be making sure he doesn't get upset. I can handle a goat-man living in my house. Right? 

* * *

The jewelry cabinet at Greenhill Antiques sparkles under the light of a nearby forest old lamps. Dozens of dainty rings, necklaces, and earrings catch to light and refract it in a million little rainbows, dancing along the walls of the case. A pair of teardrop-shaped amber earrings catches my eye. It looks like the setting is gold, that's good. Some Fae are allergic to silver. I've got to be careful so he doesn't get offended or decide to set my house on fire or something. 

"Those are amber and gold. Been in here for years." Mrs. Daniels says from over my shoulder.

"How much?" I hold one earring up to the light from a fringed table lamp; the amber glows a warm orange.

"For you? 20." 

"Perfect!" 

She packs the set up in a little paper bag and I head out. A quick trip to the store for some honey and I'm back home. Nothing's changed since I left home this morning. Good. Maybe he left? I doubt it, though. According to what I read these guys can stay in houses for hundreds of years. Just my luck. 

I go into the second downstairs room, right next to the blocked up bedroom, and toss open the window. The room is small and stuffy with a wooden desk and chair right under the window. When the rest of my things get here, I'll turn this into an art room. For now, my travel watercolors will be fine.

A few hours and paintings of the trees later, the sun is just starting to go down. I crack my back and get from the wooden chair to go into the kitchen to set up the milk cup. The honey dissolves quickly in warm milk. I put it down on the hearth in the sitting room and take the earrings out of their little bag. I run back into the kitchen to grab a saucer and put the earrings on it next to the cup. Deep breathes. Equal amounts of hope that this is the beginning of a great relationship and doubt that anything will even happen battles through my mind. 

"This is fine," I say out loud

Okay, going upstairs now. I will now ignore everything that happens downstairs tonight and go to sleep. Yeah right... I don't fall asleep until the moon is high over Daisy Fields.


	3. Chapter 3

This house is _not_ good for my sleep schedule. Around 11 am, I wake up tired. My face in the bathroom mirror looks as bad as it did finals week. I just hope this goat-guy accepted the gift so I can finally stop worrying. 

I stop short just rounding the corner into the kitchen. Lord, he's sitting at the table. He's got his chin in his hand, curly ginger hair falling over his eyes. Those brown eyes flick up to meet mine and he raises his head. He's wearing a wool vest and that's all. His chest and arms are covered in fine, fuzzy hair.

"Good morning?" I say, tentatively. I am not afraid of this guy, it's my house. Breathe. 

I edge around the table to the sink to fill the tea kettle, just trying to not be awkward. He keeps watching me. I put the kettle on the stove.

"Good morning." He brushes some hair behind his ear. He's wearing the earrings. They match his hair nearly perfectly. Good eye Riona. 

The chair scrapes against the floor as I draw it out from under the table. I sit down across from him to wait for the water to boil. Neither of us says anything. I pick at my fingernails and flick my eyes around the room. He stares at my face, almost confused looking. It's like he's searching for something. He opens his mouth and I see sharp teeth, but before he can speak the tea kettle screams. I jump up from my seat, nearly tripping over my chair in haste to get over to the stove. So much for not being afraid! I take another few deep breaths, grab two cups from the cabinet, and put them down on the counter. It would be rude not to offer him a drink. If he took the earring's he probably drank the milk, I didn't check, but if I water down the milk to make it warm, would that be offensive? Dammit! Stop overthinking it! Just do something! While my mind is about to explode, my hands pour hot water over a tea bag for myself and scoop a dollop of honey into both cups. Get milk from the fridge, put the milk in the cup, put the water in the milk. I'm almost robotic as I make up the drinks. 

I sit back down, slowly putting down both cups and pushing the milk over to him. The mug nearly burns my hands as I cradle it between them. The pain is grounding in such a bizarre situation. 

For a second, he doesn't do anything, but then, thank god, he picks up the other mug and takes a drink. Whew! In relief, I take a quick sip from my own mug. Shit! I sputter and spit out my tea, frantically grabbing a stray napkin. I forgot it was boiling. Idiot. But then, I hear something, something oddly beautiful. 

The goat-man is laughing at me. Wow. Nevermind about that beautiful sound, jackass.

"Hey! Stop laughing! Who do you think you are anyway!" I can't feel my mouth and he thinks this is funny?

"Sorry, sorry, it's just," He can't stop! "your face!" His voice _is_ pretty, which an accent I can't quite place. It's almost Scottish but just not quite right. What it is, however, is mocking me. 

Finally, he gets himself under control enough to stop cracking up whenever he tries to talk. It wasn't even _that_ funny! What are your standards, man? 

"You can call me Cael." He wipes a single tear from his eye with a clawed hand and beams a sharp-toothed smile.

"Ria." I swallow the apprehension and reach out my hand to shake his, trying my best to ignore the claws. He takes my hand and shakes it up and down fast, almost like how a kid shakes then drops it.

"Nice to meet you, Cael."

"You too. So who are you? There's something familiar about you."

"Oh, so if you've lived here for a while you probably know my nana, she used to live here until three years ago." My voice trails off near the end of the sentence

"I know her. What a sweet old lady. Where'd she go?" He keeps smiling. Does he not know that she died?

"She, she died." Instantly his face fell.

"What?"

"Have you lived here for three years alone and you didn't know what happened? She had heart disease."

"No! How would I know?" Cael jumps up from the chair. I do the same, throwing up my hands.

"It's okay! It's okay!"

"No?! It's not?!" His soft brown eyes are clouding up with tears. For a moment, I think he's about to start bawling, but then, poof! He's gone, just like the night before, without a trace. 

Um... I think I screwed that up. Falling back into my chair, I put my face in my hands. I groan. That went so horribly! The exact opposite of what I hoped! Now he's gonna be mad and put mold in soup or steal all my left shoes or something equally ridiculous! Damn it! 

* * *

Later, lying in my bed under the star quilt, I realize something. How _selfish_ am I? I spent the day fuming and worrying about what Cael was going to do to destroy my house. I hadn't given a single thought to how he's feeling! Cael was hurting, obviously. How would I have felt if some random lady walked into my house after three years and told me someone _I_ loved had died? Of course, he was upset! Who wouldn't be?

The stars glow green on my ceiling. I should do something. An owl hoots outside. I throw off the quilt. My slippered feet pad softly down the stairs into the kitchen. I don't have any more shiny things for him, but I've got honey. After setting a warm cup of milk and honey down on the hearth, I go down to the bedroom. I hesitate for a second before the door. I can't think of any other reason this door would be blocked other than some supernatural squatter living in it. I knock three times.

"I'm sorry about before. I didn't mean to upset you, I know how you're feeling" 

After no response, I go back to my room.

* * *

Over the course of three days, I keep leaving out drinks every night and by morning they're gone and the cup is in the kitchen. Nothing else is cleaned, but that's okay. I do it myself. On the fourth day, I'm out in my garden watering. My seeds have sprouted quickly, I blame that on Cael planting them. The seasons are starting to turn. Leaves dance their ways to the ground, squirrels scamper up and down the trees. The forest seems almost alive with movement and sound. Crinkling leaves crunch under the feet of animals just behind the bushes.

A breeze carries a chill from the woods. Shivers run down my spine. The plants are watered and weeded. It's time to get back inside. 

I rub my hands together to get out the chill and put some water on to boil. Once I've got my tea ready, I notice something on the table. A rock. A small, rough hunk of turquoise. It's beautiful. While drinking my tea, I examine the rock. Little lines of black crisscross the blue like a lightning strike. 

* * *

I toss a paintbrush into a jar, wiping some stray white paint on my apron. I step back a few paces to gaze across the entire painting. A red fox stands, about to enter its den, looking over its shoulder to meet the eye of the viewer. Snow falls and collects in heavy drifts on the boughs of evergreens overhead. A trail of tiny footprints follows the fox. I smile.

This painting took a good few days to complete. I've stayed in this room all day since I saw a fox bolting out of the yard one morning. I just felt like I _needed_ to.

A miniature canvas boasting a simplified scene is propped up over on a second table. The big one is for me, the little one, a gift. Cael's been leaving little trinkets around the kitchen every morning. Feathers in the cabinet, rocks by the fridge, dried flowers on the windowsill above the sink. Almost anything really. 

The small canvas was really just a quick mind-dump to get the idea out there in the world, but it turned out good for something so small. The fox reminded me of Cael. I hope he likes it.

Tonight before I go upstairs, I leave the miniature painting by the cup on the hearth, laid out on a napkin as to not get any soot on the paint. For once I get to sleep quickly.

* * *

In the morning, the painting is gone. Lying right in the middle of the kitchen table is something I'd nearly forgotten about. 

Nana's necklace, twinkling in the morning light filtering through the curtains. I choke on my breath, rushing over to hold it, making sure I'm not imagining things. It's beautiful, like new. The gold is bursting with color; the little jewels winking up at me as I dangle the pendant over my palm. 

In the bathroom, I brush my hair back from my neck. The flower pendant rests over my collarbones, right where Nana wore it. I beam at my reflection. There's an extra person in the mirror, though. 

"Thank you so much! You don't know what this means to me..." I turn around to Cael.

"I took it because it was her favorite. I didn't want to lose it, but you should have it back." He rubs the back of his neck, looking down at the tiled floor. 

Before he knows what hit him, I cross the bathroom and wrap my arms around him, pulling him into a hug. His arms slowly go up around to reciprocate. 

"Thank you." My voice is muffled slightly by my face being so close to his shoulder.

I pull away quickly.

"I'm sorry, that was forward of me." I back off to the sink.

A blush of pink joins the freckles on his face.

"That's okay," He tugs on the edges of his vest, nearly whispering "I liked it."


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Riona and Cael bond, but something is calling from the woods.

We've fallen into a good rhythm, Cael and I. He's stopped sneaking around at night and now when I wake up, he's almost always downstairs. In the evenings, we eat dinner together and sit outside, watching the day turn to night. Sometimes he disappears for a day; when he comes back his warm eyes betray his excitement to show me what he found. He's like a little kid sometimes. Always excited for the new day. 

It's weird, I've been so opposed to anything Fae for my entire life, but this feels different than any other time I've encountered one. Every day when I wake up hearing Cael's cloven feet trotting around downstairs, I don't feel afraid because there's a Fae in my home, but instead, almost happy? Like how I felt in elementary school when I woke up on a snow day. Excited. Happy. And when he shows back up holding a rock and beaming a 1000-watt smile right at me, I can't even be annoyed that his shaggy legs are caked in mud and dripping on the floor. There's just something so endearing about him I can't understand. It's like something just clicked and we were friends.

* * *

Today, a few weeks after we first met, Cael and I are in the garden checking the progress of the plants. There's a nip in the air and Cael has abandoned his vest for a chunky cable-knit sweater. I'm in my own sweater; a kitschy Christmas sweater my uncle bought me a couple of years ago. As Cael squats down to inspect the leaves of a beet plant, I hear a whisper. It almost sounds like my name, raspy and low, coming from the woods. I whip my head around and stare at the encroaching treeline. 

"Ria?" Cael gets up, coming over to look over my shoulder into the trees. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, it's nothing." I shake my head and turn back around to the garden. My head feels fuzzy. Cael puts his hand on my shoulder. 

"Are you sure? Do you want to go sit down?" 

I make a weird little noise and he leads me over to the front steps of Daisy Fields. Cael brings me a cup of water and sits beside me. My eyes wander to the treeline.

"The woods are dangerous." His tone is low, serious, completely unlike himself. "You should never go in there."

The water is crisp and cold. I drain the glass.

"I won't. I promise." My voice is small and scared. I huddle close to his side. My mind is clearing as I take deep breaths, filled with the smell of a clean animal. 

"Hey, let's go inside." Cael helps me up from the stairs. In the kitchen, he makes me a cup of warm milk. 

"I think I'm gonna go take a bath," I say after I've finished the cup.

"Ok, be careful. I'll be in my room, yell if you need me." 

* * *

After a thankful uneventful bath, I stand in the doorway of Cael's bedroom. I haven't been in there yet. I raise my hand to knock, but Cael's voice filtered through the door before to can.

"Come in!"

The door swings open to reveal a mess to end all messes. Feathers, rocks, tools, broken cups, rusty metal bits, pieces of clothing, glass bottles, just about anything, all scattered on every surface in the room. The only clear place is the bed and, thankfully, most of the floor. A closet in the corner is full to bursting with shirts, jackets, and vests of every color. On the side table, my miniature painting is leaning against the lamp. The lamp, though, is covered in scarves. Cael is sitting on the bed wearing a pair of round glasses, messing with a little wooden box full of gears. 

"What's that?" I say, pointedly ignoring all the junk I have to pass to get to him.

"A music box. I found it outside but I can't seem to get it to work." He doesn't take his eyes off the box.

"Are the gears stuck? I can get some grease from the store next time I go to town."

"Yeah I think they are, that'd be great!" He looks up from the box finally. "Did you need something?"

"I was just wondering if you wanted to watch a movie with me. I was gonna set up my laptop in the sitting room." 

I set up my laptop on the coffee table and full screen the movie, a new rom-com type movie with my favorite actress as the lead. Cael and I sit together on the plush couch. I've got a blanket wrapped around me, but Cael seems fine with his sweater and shaggy legs in the cold of the night. As the movie progresses, the old couch pushes us closer to the center of the couch, until, by the midpoint, we're touching shoulder to hip. When the female lead is climatically stolen away by her father to marry another man, I lean my head over on Cael's shoulder. He puts his arm around me. 

One month ago, if someone told me I would be cuddling with a Fae tonight, I would have laughed in their face and called them crazy, but in the present, tonight, I want nothing more than this moment to last as long as possible. 

Before I get to see how the two leads ended up back together, I fall asleep in the crook of Cael's arm. 

* * *

It's early when I wake up. The sun hasn't even risen yet. What woke me up? I'm sitting upright on the couch, still wrapped up in a blanket and tucked into Cael's side. His head is leaned back against the couch and his mouth is open. He's snoring. But that's not what woke me. It was a whisper. Like the one from earlier, worms its way through my brain. My head is pounding. I can't take it anymore! I stand, leaving Cael on the couch and the blanket on the floor. I cross into the kitchen, fumbling with the door, in my haste to leave the house. I can't think. I can't feel the cold stinging my feet. The garden passes like a dream. Branches scrape my arms through my sweater, rocks stab my bare feet. 

Coming into the woods feels more like a nightmare. Though I can hardly see, I sense _things_ moving just outside my vision. The branches above my head shake, dropping cold dew on my head. The hair on the back of my next stands on end. The air feels, different, wrong. What? Somethings changed. The trees around me are taller, older, a much more vibrant green. The forest floor is no longer strewn with rocks and debris, but a softer carpet of pine needles and moss. My head feels light like I stood up too fast, but my vision is clear. This isn't right. There's a massive brown mushroom growing out of a hollow tree up ahead. Three little men in red hats sit on the cap. I have to be dreaming. 

A loud _crack_ sounds off from behind me. Like a rabbit, I'm off running. Where am I? How'd I get here? There's no way in hell these are the woods behind Daisy Fields. I turn my head to see behind me, but at that moment I feel the ground go out from under me. Rocks and sticks tear into my skin as I tumble down an incline, coming to a stop on a large patch of moss. Something warm is trickling down my face. I throw my hand over my aching nose, when I pull it back, it's streaked with blood. My head throbs where I think it must have been dashed on a rock. 

"What was that?" A voice carries from somewhere behind the trees. 

My heart nearly stops when two men emerge from the trees. They're dressed in silver armor and both have a hand on the pommel of a sword attached to their belts. Their eyes gleam silver under their helmets. Swords, armor? What the hell? I have a concussion. I'm imagining things. That must be it.

"What have we here?" The taller guard leans down to get a closer look at my face. I squeeze my eyes shut. I feel him get closer to me and take a sniff of my head.

"A human?" Leaves crunch as the other man approaches. "Yeah? Wait a second, do you smell that? Pick it up!" 

What! My eyes fly open as one of them grabs me under the shoulders. I scream, bucking and thrashing against him, trying my hardest to get out of his iron grip. 

"Hold it!" The man holding me pushes me down to the ground and presses a knee into the small of my back. I try to push my hands up under me, but the other guard sweeps in, grabbing my hands and wrapping them behind my back with a strong cord. My face presses hard into the cold earth. Why is this happening? Tears run down my bloodied face.


End file.
